“Not going? Why, I thought you intended to see the Professor in Strassburg?” she cried.
“He has left,” I sighed; “I learned last night that he is on his way to Hungary.”
“And will you not follow?” asked the girl in reproach. “Will you not try to discover where Mabel is?”
“I’ve tried, Gwen—and failed,” I answered despairingly.
“You have not told me all, Harry,” she said, looking across at me. At the head of the table was Mabel’s empty place. “You have concealed something from me,” she declared.
“It is nothing that you should know,” was my quick reply. “My own private business does not concern you, Gwen—or Mabel either.”
“But surely I ought to know the truth? Mabel has been decoyed away abroad, and there must be some motive for it,” she replied in bitter complaint.
“Of course, my dear girl, but even I, in the knowledge of what has passed, cannot discern what the motive can be. If I could, all would be plain sailing, and we would soon recover her,” I said.
“Who is this Professor of whom you have spoken?” she asked, leaning her elbows upon the table, and gazing straight into my eyes.
“Professor Greer, the well-known chemist.”